


Sisyphus: or the Eternal Bartleby

by closetcellist



Category: Battle for London in the Air (Roleplay)
Genre: Gen, Office drudgery, the Luna Trajectory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25314643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closetcellist/pseuds/closetcellist
Summary: Dr Suttler has a perfectly normal day in the office, after Beck has returned from the dead
Kudos: 4





	Sisyphus: or the Eternal Bartleby

Since Thaddeus Beck had returned, from the dead and to the office, Irving had gone through sixteen notebooks, twenty audio books on stress management and meditation, and probably five years’ worth of tea.

The trouble, he was sure, was that they’d all gotten used to  _ not _ dealing with Beck. There was a certain level of protection the mind developed through repeated exposure, like the way a person who lived right next to a subway station eventually filtered out the noise of the trains and didn’t register it unless something changed. But they’d all lost that while he’d been gone. Oh, certainly they  _ remembered _ what he’d been like, but memory and actual fact rarely match up entirely and they had had sixty blessed years without him.

And that was only Beck when he was left to his own devices.  _ Some _ people seemed to think that it was appropriate to act like children when they were all  _ very old _ adults. Pranks were beneath them, not to mention utterly inappropriate for any work environment.

Some people also took their consignment to the office very badly when there wasn’t someone like Beck around, as though being a part of this organization—any part of it—didn’t grant them more power and opportunity than most people in the world would ever dream of gaining. They were privy to immense swaths of history, knew so much about people, politics, the glittering networks of humanity that spanned the world and how to tug on certain strings to help what was important or hinder what was harmful.

Of course there was always an excitement that came with field work, a clear sense of purpose in every action. It was hard to compare direct action in the world with the repetitive nature of the office, but that didn’t mean the work wasn’t important. Of course it was.

It had to be. It had to be something more than glorified babysitting; glorified jail keeping. It had to be something more than an eternal life sentence served in an open prison because of a simple mistake.

His computer dinged with a new email. It was from Dr Jhandir (god save anyone who forgot to include his title, even now), another complaint about Beck, written in the crisp and sharp tone he always used. Irving read it, sighed, and printed it out, filing the copy of it in a box under his desk marked ‘BECK’ on the side in permanent marker. It was already a quarter full and he hadn't even been back a year. Most of them just had a folder or two over decades.

Irving rubbed his hands over his face and sighed, looking at his desktop calendar. ‘AN EXERCISE IN ASSUMING POSITIVITY,’ it blared at him under the date. ‘Life is simple. Everything happens for you, not to you,’ it proclaimed. He pulled out his current bullet journal, which was almost full and gave him half as much stress as it removed, given it’s messiness, and drew a little chart. ‘What happened | What is the problem | What is the opportunity’ he wrote across the top of it, drawing the lines as carefully as he could, though they still turned out wiggly. Under ‘What happened’ he wrote, ‘B. continues to use personal effects of other members as though they were shared office supplies.’ Under ‘What is the problem’ he wrote, ‘drJ is protective of personal effects. B. does not respect personal boundaries.’ Under ‘What is the opportunity,’ he wrote, ‘ ‘

He stared at the space, trying to come up with anything other than what he’d already tried. Trying to come up with anything that wouldn’t just make one or the other of them more touchy or angry or impossible.

He put his pen down and closed the notebook, putting in his earbuds instead. A break, that’s what he needed. A little humor to lighten his day and spark some creativity. He turned on the podcast episode he’d been listening to last, and it started up in the middle of the episode.

_ DAVID: Yeah, we just skipped to the hating each other part. _

_ CLYTEMNESTRA: Sounds efficient to me. _

_ TREXEL: Hmm, yes. Very efficient. Very efficient. _

_ DAVID: Rrrright. So, hating each other is a good basis for a relationship, is it? _

_ CLYTEMNESTRA: Yes, absolutely. _

_ TREXEL: Yeah. Every relationship I've seen, hate hate hate. _

_ CLYTEMNESTRA: Terrible hate. _

_ TREXEL: And eventually just sort of a tense silence. _

_ CLYTEMNESTRA: Hmm, yes. [DAVID: Well—] An everlasting silence. _

_ TREXEL: Yes, until everybody's died. _

_ CLYTEMNESTRA: Mm. _

_ DAVID: Oh good. Well, for the record, I deeply and fundamentally hate Trexel Geistman so brilliant. [sarcastic] Session to an end. Complete. It's the perfect relationship. It's the perfect Stellar Firma relationship and that's it, eh? _

_ IMOGEN: [beep] Yikes! _

_ CLYTEMNESTRA: What a breakthrough you've had today, David 7. _

_ TREXEL: Yes. _

_ DAVID: That's the breakthrough? _

_ TREXEL: I'm not sur— Yeah, I— I'm not sure I like— Clytemnestra, I— I obviously respect you and your craft and your talent, but I feel like maybe if we establish a relationship of pure hate, [stammers] we'll be less effective as a team, do you think? _

Irving stopped the podcast with another sigh and as if on cue, his computer dinged again, with another message. This one at least wasn’t a complaint. It wasn’t anything really, a bit of junk that offered him 30% off ties from a company he’d never heard of. He didn’t click on it, because he’d paid attention to Jaydyn’s many, many lectures about junk mail and viruses and phishing scams and the like and just deleted it, sending it swiftly into the trash.

Of course, computers were a miracle, both for avoiding having to interact directly with certain individuals and to provide a distraction from the incredible pointlessness of his existence. Even if they sometimes emphasized it, maybe, just a little bit. After all, what use is eternity when you can’t become part of society, without even the brief spots of bright purpose granted to field agents who knew they were part of something important?

Baby, his current office companion and beloved corgi, chose that moment to waddle over, sticking her cold nose against his arm and jolting him out of his spiraling thoughts. He couldn’t help but smile as she clambered into his lap, settling in with all three and a half stone of her. He buried his face against her neck, deep in her fur. Of course, that was the reason. Who knows who Baby would be living with if he wasn’t here. Not to mention Truffle. His children needed him, and he would always do his best for them.

His computer dinged with a new email, but he didn’t look up from Baby for a good five minutes before glumly lifting his head. A new email sat in his inbox, like a squat and ugly toad. It was from Beck. Of course it was. He’d marked it “Important” and the subject line appeared to have three exclamation points in it.

He hadn’t even read it when his office phone rang not a minute later, and even without the caller id there was no doubt in his mind who it was. Irving calmly opened his desk drawer and took out a pair of scissors, leaning over Baby to cut the phone cord. The ringing blessedly stopped.

“Come along, Baby,” Irving said, coaxing the enormous corgi off his lap to stand and close his laptop, unplugging it from the docking station and tucking it under his arm. “Let’s go for a walk, hm?”

Baby followed right by his side as he left his office, heading for the stairs up to the roof. He wasn’t surprised to see Dr Jhandir and a few of the others who still smoked taking a break—or avoiding other members, more likely—but he just gave them all a friendly nod as he headed right for the edge of the roof that overlooked the alleyway. He stopped there for a moment and took a deep, cleansing breath, before almost casually tossing his laptop over. He watched with interest as it hit the ground, shattering into a surprisingly small number of pieces. He’d expected more, but it didn’t matter. It was still enormously satisfying.

When he turned around to head back, the smokers were gaping at him. Irving laughed and Baby barked happily. “I’m afraid HR isn’t able to process any complaints today—my computer seems to have mysteriously died. But I’ll speak to Jaydyn about getting a new one soon. I’m sure we’ll be able to sort it out by the end of the week. Oh, but Dr Jhandir?”   
  
Dr Jhandir frowned at him, warily. “What is it?”

“I’m afraid if I get any more complaints from Beck about you this week, I’m going to have to schedule a mandatory team building exercise for the whole office. Jaydyn told me about an Escape Room place that opened up nearby.” Irving smiled at the other doctor’s expression and headed back inside with a spring in his step, already feeling much better about the rest of his week.


End file.
